


Butterfly Caught

by avalonroses



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Crossover, Crossroads Deals & Demons, Hunters & Hunting, M/M, Supernatural - Freeform, Sweet Devil
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-16
Updated: 2016-02-16
Packaged: 2018-05-21 01:44:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6033520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/avalonroses/pseuds/avalonroses
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alfred knows better than to make a deal with a crossroad demon. But Arthur is so <i>damn</i> hard to resist.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Butterfly Caught

Alfred had always hated crossroad demons.

Devious, sweet-talking assholes that preyed on humans pitiful and desperate enough to summon them from the rotting gutter they hibernated in. Alfred assumed that was where they hung out anyway—he couldn’t imagine them lounging in first-class hotels, sipping on sparkling wine and picking apart human souls with their clawed fingers.

…On second thought, that didn’t seem too far off the mark. Huh, maybe dirty demons could be classy after all.

He’d handled all manner of creatures throughout his hunting career—which had been his unintentional choice of occupation for longer than he’d like to admit—but even with wendigoes, werewolves, vampires, zombies, hellhounds, ancient spirits and—ugh—ghosts, you name it, Alfred had been up close and personal with it but demons remained to be his least favourite. Primarily because they were all a bunch of dicks.

It had come to his and Mattie’s attention recently that there was a crossroad demon open for business in Georgia, and the guy, or girl, sure was raking in the customers. They’d seen at least three cases of family members miraculously recovering from illness, astonishing promotions and lottery wins, as well as the unearthing of bodies littered with gory claw marks—hellhounds, no doubt about it.

They’d followed a lukewarm trail of half-guesses and whispers to figure out if someone else would be luring the demon into another generous deal—the price was only their life, soul and an eternal sentence in hell, who wouldn’t want that?—and it transpired that the sister of the last idiot with the recipe for summoning the demon had a humdinger of a crush on some guy and had last been seen digging up dirt in a graveyard.

Considering a photograph of themselves, a touch of graveyard dirt and a cat bone was necessary for the ritual, it was pretty damning evidence.

Alfred and Mattie followed the girl after she crept into her car in the dead of the night and drove into the middle of freakin’ nowhere, stopping at, whatdoyaknow, a crossroad.

She buried her box of goodies in the centre of the junction and took a few hesitant steps back, her eyes darting about as she impatiently searched for the demon to manifest.

Alfred propped his feet up on the dashboard, cutting wedges off an apple with his demon-killing knife—a special, ancient ceremony had made it the ultimate snuffing-out-a-demon tool or some shit, Alfred didn’t know exactly.

“Alfred, stop that,” Mattie sighed, eyeing the apple slice balancing on the blade. “The knife wasn’t made for you to get apple juice on it.”

“Hey,” Alfred spoke through the crunch of the apple slice. “We’re gonna kill this demon, might as well give him a tasty beverage at the same time. It’s only polite, y’know?”

Mattie rolled his eyes, his palms tightening around the steering wheel as his patience began to diminish. Alfred cut off another slice, grinning, but he didn’t get the reaction out of his brother that he wanted. The bitchy expression had smoothed out and his gaze was now stony with concentration.

Alfred followed his eyes and spotted a red-headed man speaking to the girl through his windshield.

“There’s our guy!” the American announced animatedly, kicking his legs from the dashboard and rubbing the knife on his shirt. No apple juice after all, Mr. Demon.

“Alfred, be quiet!” Mattie hissed under his breath, his face hard with urgency and exasperation.

Ignoring his whiny brother, Alfred dove out of the car and hurdled straight for the demon. Past experience had taught him that he had to be fast with these guys, otherwise they’d get chatty and Alfred honestly didn’t want to hear a word they had to say. It’s only wasting valuable time to go get burgers, fall into a motel bed and sleep until noon.

The demon didn’t seem startled or perturbed that there’s a seasoned hunter sprinting towards him, blade in hand, and that ruined the fun for Alfred somewhat.

He stepped in front of the girl, budging her out of the way, and she seemed a bit put out but whatever, and then Mattie darted over, moving her out of the way entirely.

“You’ve been busy lately, haven’t cha?” Alfred enquired, voice chirpy as though he was speaking to old friend. He could get a good look at the demon now that he was illuminated under a pale streetlight.

He was, uh… well, he’s pretty. Real pretty. All big, green doll eyes, soft lips and a cute nose with a slight upturn that reminded Alfred of a fae creature. He was svelte too, moving as fluid as water, and there was even a pair of black horns curling from his glossy shock of crimson hair.

He was also smirking, undeterred by Alfred and the fatal weapon he held, and the cockiness he exuded prickled under Alfred’s skin.

“My services are in high demand,” the demon replied. “I’m only doing my job, after all. I offer a fair deal and don’t neglect to inform humans of the… finer details. It’s hardly my problem if they choose to violate the terms they agreed to.”

Alfred’s sure he’s got a British accent, and it’s fairly snooty which means the demon’s been around for a few years.

The hunter shrugged.

“Well, it’s not my problem if you don’t like being killed. Either way, this is your last night on the job, buddy,” he informed the demon, twisting the knife in his hand and bending his knees, preparing himself to lunge forward and plunge the knife into that shriveled heart in the demon’s chest.

“Is that so?”

The demon merged in the crowded backdrop of trees, disappearing altogether, and he reappeared behind Alfred. Both Alfred and Matthew started, Matthew even lunged forward but the demon raised a hand and an unseen force halted him in his tracks.

The demon was powerful, more powerful than your average crossroad demon.

Damnit.

“I’m assuming you’re the Jones brothers,” the demon commented, nonchalant.

 He walked around Alfred, circling the man as though he was  a cat sizing up his prey. Despite being forcefully stilled from moving, Matthew was still hung up on enough with bitterness over the surname to snap out:

“Williams-Jones brothers.”

“Oh? My mistake,” the demon responded but it’s evident he hadn’t even registered Matthew’s aggravation. No, he was too busy roaming his gaze over Alfred like he’s a piece of steak and it sent ripples of… something across the fringes of Alfred’s nerves. A traitorous part of him whispered that the sensation wasn’t disgust but he shoved it down, refusing to listen to it.

No way he’s attracted to some douchebag demon.

The demon stopped in front of Alfred, so close that the air between them sparked with hot energy, and Alfred couldn’t keep his eyes off the demon. He was perfect up close, skin as even and pale as porcelain and his eyes were flecked with molten gold.

“I’ve heard a lot about you two,” the demon said, his lips near enough to Alfred’s that the hunter could taste the cinnamon sweetness on his breath. “No one mentioned how… pleasing you were to look at.”

Alfred’s head drew a blank, his mind as still and empty as a clear pond, and he took a dry swallow, unnerved by the affect the demon’s having on him.

“I propose a contract between us, Alfred.”

The hunter sucked in a lungful of frozen breath as he felt the demon’s hand flatten against his thigh, and then it glided higher and higher, fingers confident and firm enough to make Alfred’s thighs tense.

“How about you guarantee my pleasure…” He paused to ghost his lips over Alfred’s neck, air fanned over the fine hairs at Alfred’s hairline and it tugged a shiver from the American. “And I guarantee your pleasure.” And with that, the demon’s hand cupped between Alfred’s legs and squeezed. A primal, guttural sound tumbled from Alfred’s throat. He’s hard. He couldn’t even pretend otherwise because the demon’s, you know, rubbing over his crotch and making his condition worse.

A distant pinprick of shame reminded him that he’s seriously turned on because of a demon and how messed up that is.

He slumped into the demon, bewitched by the sensual waves the smaller man was creating in him, and then, suddenly, he was left bereft and the demon had pulled away. The knife was snatched out of his hand and Matthew dashed past him, blade aimed straight for the demon’s belly and it would have struck if the demon hadn’t dissipated into the fragrant night air.

Matthew stumbled forward and through the space the demon had once occupied before whirling around, eyes rapidly flickering in search of the demon.

It became evident that the demon wasn’t going to be gracing them with his presence again.

“What the hell, man?” Matthew ground out, storming up to Alfred with fire in his glare.

“I—uh, I don’t know! He did some weird voodoo demon stuff on me, okay!”

Alfred grasped the blade from Mattie’s hand and fled towards the car, not bothering to console the girl who was standing idly by, stunned and shaking like a spring leaf.

“Propositioning sex? That’s not ‘weird voodoo demon stuff’, Alfred, that’s regular human stuff!”

Alfred ignored him and threw himself into the car, folding his legs over in an effort to pretend the erection he still had wasn’t there and wasn’t driving him crazy. Mattie could deal with the girl, Alfred didn’t give a damn, he needed to get to a bed and sleep—anything to get that demon out of his head.

-/-

Alfred had dreams, indulgent, vivid dreams of a demon with wild, red hair and the sounds he’d make when he was brought to the cusp of utter bliss, or the lovely frustration he’d express when denied that pleasure. Alfred teased him in his most debauched of fantasies, teased him until he begged and Alfred fucking loved it.

His name was Arthur. Alfred didn’t know how he knew, but he did, he was certain.

He’d always wake in a shameful rush, surging from his sleep in a film of perspiration and addling arousal, on the brink of a wet dream. Unfortunately, he was sharing motel rooms with his brother and the last thing he needed was for Matthew to catch him getting off in his sleep.

The demon was tormenting him, he was following Alfred, infecting his mind with… addictive, enchanting sin.

Alfred was a hunter; he couldn’t sleep with a demon—he couldn’t even imagine it but here he was. They had no sense of morality, no boundaries in the laws they could break or the wills they could bend to their own. They were the bad guys and Alfred and Mattie were the good guys.

But… his want for Arthur was becoming more and more prevalent each day, more and more distracting. Matthew was beginning to question what was up.

Mattie was also determined to kill the Arthur but the demon wasn’t playing their game—he hadn’t even showed up when he and Matthew had tried to summon him at a crossroad.

He’d showed up for Alfred, however, perching at the foot of his bed in the early hours of the morning with that sly smile across his lips. Alfred had even spotted him lingering outside the shower which had caused Alfred to flail and reach for a towel, to which the demon only laughed.

Arthur always asked, before he disappeared, “Do we have a deal?”

“No,” Alfred would refuse, obstinate and unwilling to soften on the subject.

The demon never seem convinced, however, he never stayed away for long and his smile remained self-assured, knowing, and his eyes glittering with erotic promise.

Alfred settled into a hazy veil of denial, almost content to ignore the fact that he’d been presented with plenty of opportunity to kill the demon but had yet to even reach for his knife. He reasoned with himself that the guy was too fast, his appearances too brief, for Alfred to ever get close enough to deliver a deadly blow.

It wasn’t until Alfred can’t take sleep anymore, couldn’t allow himself to sink into that gloriously dark place, that he stomped off to a bar without so much as an explanation for Mattie, and ordered himself a stiff drink.

Of course, Arthur was there.

He was sat next to Alfred, sipping neatly at his own drink.

“Am I getting under your skin, Alfred?” he asked, the question was posed in such an innocent manner; Alfred actually had to look over at him and assure that he was the same demon. Yep. His eyes were dancing with amusement and lust, definitely the same guy.

“What do you want?” Alfred retorted.

“I’ve told you what I want.” Arthur moved out of his seat, and pressed himself into Alfred, standing between the hunter’s legs. “I want you to make me feel good.”

Arthur brushed a few stray strands of hair from Alfred’s face and his gaze dipped to Alfred’s lips.

“And I’ll make you feel good. Do we have a deal?”

Alfred looked at Arthur, and his entire body fluttered with excitement.

_To hell with it._

“We have a deal.”

**Author's Note:**

> For USUK Secret Santa 2015.


End file.
